A Bitter Confection and a Sweet Confession
by HoneyBadgerOverlord
Summary: "Did I murder my husband? Must you even ask? Of course I did, you silly geese!" In which Oliver willingly tells the whole truth to the nice police officers investigating a recent murder. The 2p! characters in an AU.


Good evening to you as well, darling officers. Heavens no, please do not apologize! This is no inconvenience at all. Bringing me down here for questioning is your job. Coffee? No thank you but some tea would be lovely if you had any around…

This is delicious tea, officer! The perfect amount of sugar cubes and everything, thank you ever so much… Oh. Yes of course, we haven't the time for pleasantries all night. Please commence the questioning. I swear to tell you nothing but the truth about what occurred.

My name is Oliver Kirkland and I am twenty seven years old. I own that confection and bake shop in the downtown plaza. Sinfully Sweet? Yes, that's the one! Thank you officers, you are both too kind. We pride ourselves in making nothing but the most delectable treats. You really should stop by soon, we've begun to bake some new flavors of cupcakes- apologies! I really don't mean to steer us off course. Please ask your next question.

Did I murder my husband? Must you even ask? Of course I did, you silly geese!

…What? You both seem to be rather shocked. Was I not the prime suspect in the first place? Really? No? I'm rather offended! You all did not think me capable of committing a homicide? I can take the life of a man as well as the next psychotic killer, thank you very much.

You must both be wondering to yourselves why I would do such a thing. I would be most pleased to explain to you the events which caused this to happen.

I loved Allen. I still do. He was my first love and I reckon that he will be my last love. He was the strong-willed, tough acting sort of man. I first met him when he stormed into my shop demanding if we sold any vegan sweets. When I told him that we didn't he began to curse at me and told me that I should be ashamed for using the products of innocent animals. I tried my hardest to be understanding of his anger but I _really_ do not appreciate it when profanity is used in my presence. In response to his vulgar language I hit him across the chest with a rolling pin and as politely as I could manage insisted that he put an adequate amount of money in the jar to pay for his choice of words.

That was the first time he smiled at me, a darling, devilish smile that made my stomach feel butterflies. He said that he liked my attitude and that I was the cutest thing he ever saw. When he walked out of my shop that day I was left standing behind the counter with a slightly heavier swear jar and a blush darker than blood.

The next day Allen returned to my shop. He did so again the next day, and the next day. Every day for three weeks he came to me demanding to know if we had anything vegan yet. Some days he would yell loudly and use foul language and I would have to demand monetary compensation. Other days he would be calm, and after asking if we had what he wanted he would lean against the counter and flirt with me. No matter what, every day he left my shop he left me blushing and wanting to see him again.

Finally the day came that when he requested a vegan sweet I could give him one. I felt such anticipation as he ever so slowly took a bite of the cupcake I crafted especially for him. I took in every reaction; the way his eyes darkened some, the way his tan cheeks pinked lightly, the way his tongue flicked along his bottom lip. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

He said that it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. He smirked, and told me that I had a real talent for what I did. He leaned over the counter and cooed in my ear that he wanted to take me out that night. I agreed to a date at once.

And so we began to see each other. Whenever we went out I had the time of my life. I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper for him. Though Allen acted much too tough and I noticed that he did have a bit of a wandering eye, he was perfection to me. After a few more dates Allen confessed that he was getting serious about our relationship and wanted to be my boyfriend. I was pleasantly surprised to hear such a thing from him. I responded with a kiss that led to a very long, very hot night…

After eleven months of being together Allen got down on one knee in the middle of my shop and presented me with a ring. The diamond wasn't anything fancy but it was beautiful none the less. I nodded between smiles and tears and hugs and kisses, allowing the ring to be put on my finger. I will never forget how he held me in his arms and whispered to me that I was his, always. In that moment I knew how much he loved me.

Our wedding was a small ceremony held at the court house. We bought a nice sized apartment together and spent our honeymoon there. Allen showered me with soft caresses and passionate kisses. It was a dream more magnificent than anything I could have ever imagined! Even after the honeymoon ended our life together was a dream. Each morning I made us breakfast. Allen went to his job at the mechanics and I went to my shop. I would arrive home first every evening and prepare dinner. By the time my darling husband was home there was a hot meal on the table. After we ate I would clean the kitchen before joining Allen in our bedroom. That was our marriage for three years. It seemed to me that my husband was satisfied and therefore I was satisfied as well.

One evening I had to work late at the shop to assist with taking inventory. I called my spouse to inform him that he would have to prepare his own dinner that night. Our call ended with an exchange of 'I love you' as they always did. He sounded as if he meant it. He always sounded as if he meant it.

It took a shorter time than I thought it would to get all of my work done. The thought of coming home to Allen fueled me to go as fast as I could. Since I couldn't eat dinner with him I at least wanted to join him in our bedroom as soon as possible. I was a good mate, really I was. I wanted nothing more than to please my husband. I believed he deserved nothing but happiness. I worked hard to give him that; I desperately wanted to give him that…

I guess I couldn't. But Francois could, the Frenchman with shallow eyes and a deep frown who lived down the hall. When I entered the apartment that evening, softly shutting the door, I was greeted with the sound of grunts and moaned curses. There they were; my beloved, dearest husband sitting on top of the kitchen counter with Francois between his legs. Allen always did fancy blondes.

I cleared my throat loudly but they didn't seem to notice. I did so again and for a moment my husband's gaze left the ceiling and landed on me. I saw no sorrow in that gaze, pity for me or regret. In that moment my entire world collapsed around me. I opened my mouth but I could not say a word. I could not scream at Allen, I could not yell at the Frenchman to stop, stop the lewd act he was doing. I could only turn towards my room- our room – and walk there in silence, closing the door with a soft _click_.

Allen did not come to bed that night and was not at breakfast the next morning. I went to the shop and acted as if nothing had happened, pretending that my heart hadn't been pierced with a dagger of betrayal. My smile was as bright as usual but it pained me. There is little that is more agonizing than giving an empty smile you don't really mean.

I returned home that evening and per usual prepared dinner for my _darling_ , _loyal_ husband. I did not know if he would be home but I set a place for him anyways. To my surprise he stalked in the door at a quarter to seven. It was clear that he was in a foul mood but I was relieved to see him none the less. He sat down at the table and began to eat without a word. I quickly finished my food before going to the kitchen to bake some desert for Allen. In no time at all I presented before him a cupcake, perfectly frosted and lovely to the eye. Without blinking he snatched up the sweet and devoured half of it in a single bite, not even savoring the taste. He chewed once, twice, before making a face and spitting the cake back onto the dish.

He said that it was the worst thing he had ever tasted. He sneered, and told me that I shouldn't own a shop if I created such unappetizing… stuff. He grabbed my wrist in a tight grip and snarled that he was pissed I had dared given him something so gross.

I apologized to my husband profusely. I did nothing to stop the tears that welled in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I promised that I would try again and create something that would please him, but I needed more flour and had to go out and get some. Allen's hold on me weakened when I began to sob. I pulled away and scurried into the kitchen. From there I could hear his heavy footsteps stomp into the bedroom. Once I knew he was out of sight I allowed the flow of tears to stop. He never could handle it when I cried.

After wiping the traces of tears off my face I walked down the block to the baking supply store. Using cash from Allen's wallet I purchased a wickedly sharp kitchen knife and a small glass jar. I then went to the corner store to buy a bag of flour. Once all I needed had been bought I strolled back to my apartment complex, though I did not go back to my home. I stopped down the hall from there.

The Frenchman named Francois was not pleased that I was knocking on his door. He scowled down at me, his dark circled eyes holding a suspicious gleam. He asked me why I was there. I told him that I was there to see him. He asked me what I wanted. I told him what I wanted was him. His frown deepened and he seemed very unamused. He went to close his door on me.

I stood on my tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. He stiffened, but did not close his door. The taste of unwashed skin made me cringe internally. I pressed my lips to his chin. The texture of an unshaved face disgusted me. I put my mouth to his. The vile flavor of smoke and strong alcohol assaulted my senses but I kissed him as if I really did want him. Soon he was shoving his tongue down my throat and pulling me inside of his apartment, shutting the door and pushing me against it. He was too busy kissing and groping to notice the kitchen knife that was in my hand. He didn't even have time to scream as the blade of that knife was pierced into his heart, right where Allen's betrayal had affected me.

I was very careful, ever so careful, not to get any of that wretched Frenchman's blood on me. However I made sure to get as much of it as I could into the glass jar. Once I had gotten all that I required I moved the cadaver through the smoky, neglected apartment into Francois' bedroom. I squished the corpse into the junk filled closet and closed the door. I knew that with the powerful smell of cigarettes it would take a while for the odor of the decomposing body to be detected. All of a sudden a smile curved to my lips and it did not pain me. It was a smile of genuine happiness. With a shopping bag containing a bag of flour and a warm jar of my favorite ingredient, I finally returned to my apartment to bake another dessert.

The door to our bedroom was open and I could see Allen sitting on the bed blankly watching a baseball game. I could feel my smile widen at the sight of him. My beloved, darling husband… As I mixed the dry ingredients together he was all I could think of. As I added the blood of the Frenchman (the perfect egg substitute) I thought of all the filthy things that might have taken place on the kitchen counter I was cooking on then. As I searched the back cabinet to find the special ingredient I kept there I couldn't help but recall all of the beautiful times I had with my husband. All of the tender kisses he gave me, all of the loving smiles… I poured the entire vile of the liquid into the batter, regardless.

Once the cupcakes were ready I frosted them perfectly as always. I took one into the room where Allen was still staring at the television. I clicked it off and straddled myself on my husband's lap. He frowned at me but I gave him a kiss, as gentle and innocent as I could. I kissed him again and murmured that I was sorry. Though I had never seen it before, I knew that the look in his eyes was guilt. That guilt didn't matter to me. I put the small cake to his lips, silently urging him to taste. He sighed and took a large bite. I put the rest of the sweet on the bedside table. I hope that he didn't find it to taste too sweet.

I began to ghost my lips across his jawline. He shuddered, but I doubt it was from my touch. I continued to peck kisses down his neck even as I felt his body begin to convulse under me, as cyanide will make one do. Soon he was unmoving, unconscious. I had wanted nothing but happiness for my husband until the very end. I caressed his face and pressed my lips gently on his cheeks. I whispered sweet nothings into his ear until I could feel his heart beat no more.

I dragged my husband's body into the bathtub and dismembered his corpse with the largest knife in my kitchen, cutting off his limbs so that I could fit them into a few garbage bags which I then tossed into my dumpster. I'm well aware that I was sloppy with my work. Someone found the remains, didn't they? But I must admit that part of me had the desire to be caught this time… Yes, _this time._ Now now officers, with my little confession this just became a double homicide. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you.

Aren't you going to ask why I committed this crime? No? Despite what you might think I did not kill Allen because he cheated on me. If bedding another person gave him happiness I'm glad that he did it. Like I said before, I love my husband and I always will. He was perfection to me, but what he did I consider unforgiveable.

You see, no one may insult my baking and live for much longer afterwards. And that is the truth.


End file.
